Escape
by like-waves-on-the-beach
Summary: AU. On the outside, Emma Swan has everything a woman could want in life. But looks can be deceiving. Will she continue to live a lie, or will somebody dare to break down her walls and reveal the real person within?
1. Chapter 1

Hi, newbie here. Well, not a fanfic newbie but this is my first Once Upon a Time fanfic. I am currently in the middle of writing a multi-chapter Divergent fanfic, but after spending the entire holidays binge watching all seasons of Once Upon a Time, several ideas jumping to my imagination for fanfics centered on that show. This is the first to have a couple of chapters in the bank and will hopefully not be too long, I thinking around ten chapters. I'm also working on another multi chapter OUAT story which I hope to post soon.

Please note that Emma's character may seem out of character but trust me, there is a reason and all with be revealed if you stick with me.

Just so you know, this is unbeta'd, so sorry for any mistakes.

Okay, so read, review, let me know if this is something I should continue with, or just trash it and start something else.

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Emma moved with ease through the contemporary designed gallery, smiling and nodding her greetings to the patrons she recognized as she passed, before coming to a stop in front of the several displays offered by Gold Antiquities, the auction house she worked for.

She double checked the descriptions for each piece, cursing silently at the wrong date written on one crisp ivory card, turning a pair of porcelain temple vases from the Yuan Dynasty into the Ming Dynasty.

She swiveled her head, her blonde curls swinging with the movement, as she searched for someone who looked like they were carrying a pen, wishing she had gone with her original outfit choice of a classic tailored suit, instead of the sleek, figure hugging emerald dress she was currently wearing.

She stopped one of the wait staff as they carried a platter of hors d'oeuvres passed her. "Do you have a pen?"

"Sorry, Ma'am," the person answered and Emma huffed. She hated being called ma'am, she was too young to be a ma'am. She was only a few years older than the college kid she was talking to. But that was the price she paid for having such an awesome, high flying job at a young age.

She turned abruptly from the server and hurried off in search of a writing implement to correct someone else's mistake, mumbling to herself as she went.

She spied the owner of the gallery, a raven haired beauty who had become a surprising friend and conspirator. Over the last three years they had formed an unlikely alliance. Regina balanced out Emma, despite an age gap of around five years and backgrounds as diverse as they come. Regina's refined upbringing smoothed out Emma's harshness and Emma's often impulsive nature made Regina loosen up a little.

"Regina," she called out, stopping the woman from walking away. "I don't suppose you have a pen? Some cretin has made a mistake with the antique's labeling and I need to correct it before someone spots it and I lose my bonus."

Regina lifted an immaculately trimmed eyebrow. "Like you need the money, Emma," she replied, the gleam in her eyes taking the bite from her voice.

"I need things to be correct," Emma smirked back, "and do I have to point out the cretin I'm talking about is one for your employees."

"Point taken," Regina acknowledged with a slight nod of her head. "But no, I don't have a pen. There'll be one in my office."

Emma pointed to the large room separated from the gallery area by a large bleached beechwood door. "Do you mind?"

"Knock yourself out," Regina answered before being approached by an elderly man in an Armani suit.

Emma moved quickly into Regina's office and, not for the first time, she marveled at the woman's impeccable taste in interior design. The walls were a very pale blue, almost silver, the furniture all in accents of grays and whites. The desk in the center of the room was over-sized even for most men but Emma loved it, it oozed power.

She moved across the floor, the cherry wood warm in contrast to the rest of the room, her heels beating evenly with her stride. When she reached the edge of the desk, she paused, her eyes lifting to the wall behind and the shelves which lined the wall on either side of a Mánes original she herself had found for Regina's office. The photo in a crystal frame shocked her and she was sure it hadn't been there the last time she was in this room. The just married couple looked happy in that captured moment, their smiles almost genuine but she knew, at least for one of the two, it was the worse day of their life. She shook her head as she leaned over the desk, reaching for the pens set to the side of the writing pad in almost military order.

So intent on her wondering about the photograph she didn't hear the door open as her fingers reached out for one of the pens, or the soft tread as the person strode purposefully toward her. In fact, she didn't even register she wasn't the only one in the room until rough hands grabbed her hips, pulling her backside up a little and she felt herself being rubbed against a very male body.

"Oh yeah, love. You know I like it over the desk."

Emma turned her head, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, to look behind her to find a tall, dark-haired man thrusting himself against her ass. His eyes were closed and he wore a smirk on his lips, his chin covering with wiry hair, scruffy with an 'I don't care' feel to it.

"Excuse me?" she asked, not quiet believing the position she found herself in with a complete stranger.

At the sound of her voice, the stranger popped his eyes open, his gaze roaming over her face though he didn't move.

"You're not Regina," he said, as though it was her fault.

'No, I'm not," Emma grinned despite herself. "Would you maybe wanna step back?"

He smirked at her again, a half-smile that suddenly seemed to make her feel weak as she took in his features. His eyes, a striking blue, were mesmerizing, and glowing with mischief but held an undertone of hardness and his lips looked incredibly soft, pliable, and she felt an uncontrollable urge to caress them with her own.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "I kinda like where I am right now."

At that Emma felt exactly how much he was enjoying their position and her head turned away from him, not wanting to see the look in his eyes. Her own gaze landed on the photograph she had looked at when she first entered the room and she gulped, moving to stand up, snatching a pen from the desk.

She slowly stood and heard the stranger groan with her movement before turning around to meet his gaze. His hands let her move but he didn't completely remove them from her hips.

"Maybe you should check the next time that it's the right woman you are propositioning before you..."

"Insinuate fucking over the desk?" he finished for her, again with that sexy half smile.

Emma blushed at his choice of words, his British accent making the word 'fuck' seem so much dirtier, even though that was exactly what she was thinking. Her eyes lowered slightly to come level with his chest, which was covered with a charcoal shirt under a dark jacket, his rich red tie standing out strikingly, and she marveled at how broad his chest was and how it might look without the fabric covering it. She shook her head, shaking these thoughts away, half disgusted with herself. This wasn't her, she didn't blatantly ogle strange men. Not anymore.

"I need to get back out there," she said, suddenly desperately wanting, no needing, to extract herself from this situation.

"But we're having fun here," he reasoned, almost pouting in disappointment as the color in this eye seemed to brighten.

Emma couldn't stop herself from looking lower, shifting her gaze over the slight bulge in his pants. "Well, one of us certainly is."

He just grinned at her again. "Love, we can both have fun."

Emma laughed lightly at him before side-stepping out of his semi- embrace. "Maybe next time," she found herself saying, much to her own shock. "Right now, I have work to do." And she moved quickly before she changed her mind and made the biggest mistake of her life, well, maybe the third or even fourth biggest, and rushed for the door, almost tripping over her own feet in the process.

When she was back outside Regina's office she exhaled slowly, not quiet believing how bold she had just been with someone she had never met before. She had thought that stage of her life was gone.

She noticed the people in the gallery had increased while she was gone and quickly she dashed over to the Gold Antiquities display, making the correction easily and stashing the pen behind a large vase. She then moved off in search of a drink, she really needed something to calm herself.

A few hours later and the event was going well. Emma watched as Regina flitted from one person to another, always gracious and smiling and she lifted a champagne flute from a passing server before turning back to the painting she was studying.

It was a strange piece, the colors, dark blues, grays, and purples, all kind of swirling in large strokes, never meeting yet seeming to mingle at the same time. In stark contrast, in the corner a bright yellow abstract pattern stood out against the dull colors, and Emma tipped her head slightly as if looking at the picture from a different angle would offer another perspective.

"It's a strange piece, right?" a male voice commented to the side of her, voicing her very thoughts and Emma's stomach flipped a little at the accent and she suddenly felt light headed. It had been a while since she had that reaction to a guy and a small smile graced her lips at the thought.

"I like it," she answered defiantly.

"Really?" he asked turning to her, his brows furrowing quizzically.

"Absolutely," she returned, turning to face him. "It dark, almost painful, with a hint of hope shining in the corner."

He laughed a little, his lips spreading wide with his smile. "And you get all that from just a few brush strokes."

"It's one of my many talents," she quipped back, resisting the urge to wink at him. _Was she flirting with this man, this stranger? What was she thinking?_

He leaned forward, invading her personal space with ease, his tongue darting out to brush against his lower lips before he whispered in her ear. "I can't wait to see your other talents."

Emma smiled coyly as he set himself straight again. "I make a mean cup of coffee," she informed him.

"Is that an offer for breakfast?" he bantered back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I don't know, I haven't decided yet," she shot back.

"Hey, there you are," Regina's voiced called out and Emma took a step back from his man who was making her act like a completely different person, suddenly feeling badly. This guy had thought she was Regina when he first entered the office, so obviously they had something going on.

Regina stopped beside them both, her head turning from one to the other for a moment, a thin, almost knowing, smile on her face.

"Emma, I see you've met Killian," she said.

"Well, sort of," Emma answered before taking a sip of the champagne in the glass she was still holding.

"We haven't actually exchanged names yet," the stranger acknowledged.

"Then let me," Regina beamed. "Killian, this is Emma Swan. Hot shot buyer and evaluator of all things antiquated for the prestigious firm Gold Antiquities."

"Really?" Killian beamed to her. "I'm impressed."

"Emma, this is Killian Jones, talented artist, British rebel without a cause, and a pain in my ass."

"Artist?" Emma repeated, raising her brow in question.

"Yeah, that's one of his pieces you are looking at right now," Regina told her.

"Really?" she echoed his earlier exclamation.

"Yeah," Killian answered. "And you nailed it by the way, love."

"Did I miss something?" Regina asked them both.

"No," Emma answered quickly, the same time Killian barked out "Yes."

"Whatever," Regina dismissed them both. "Oh, there's Vernon Andrews. I must talk to him; I need some new clients."

And she was gone, leaving Emma and Killian staring at each other.

"So, do you really like it?" Killian asked.

"Huh?"

"The painting, you said you liked it," Killian clarified.

Emma turned her head to look at the painting again, her head tilting as before.

"Yeah, I like it."

"It's yours."

"Oh no," Emma said, shaking her head quickly. "I can't accept that. It's for the auction, right?"

"I'll withdraw it," he shrugged. "I want you to have it. No one has understood the piece and the first time you see it, you totally get it."

"Mr. Jones," Emma started.

"Killian," he interrupted with smile.

"Killian," she smiled back. "Thank you, but I can't, really. I wouldn't feel right."

She noticed one of the interns she had brought from her work to assist her waving frantically to her.

"I think there is a minor problem," she explained to Killian, half thankful for being called away. "Please excuse me," and she moved in the direction of the red haired girl who was standing next to a Quaker chair from the 17th Century.

"Until next time," Killian answered with a slight nod of his head, before stopping her, his hand on her elbow. "Because there will be a next time, Emma."

Emma gulped, her eyes quickly sweeping the room to see if anyone was watching their exchange, thankful they all seemed engaged in conversations or observing the art works or items around the room for the auction. She nodded quickly, not looking him in the eye and then continued on her way.

Another hour had passed before Emma finally stepped out into the long balcony that stretched the length of the gallery, feeling the need for fresh air after maybe one too many glasses of champagne, but the auction was going well and the pieces her firm had donation were all sold, hopefully helping to raise plenty of money for the charity Regina had taken a liking to this month. There was an anxious moment when the piece Killian had offered her was brought forward, but she was pleased when the envelope announced the artwork had been sold, and for a tidy sum too.

She half hid herself in the shadows, just needing a minute to clear her head before heading back in for the last half hour of the event, half imagining herself already at home, relaxing in her large tub.

She vaguely heard the door slide open but turned away hoping whoever it was would quickly leave.

"This is where you are hiding," the voice that had been haunting her all evening announced and she turned slowly to him.

"Just needed a minute. I'm not a big drinker normally," she admitted with a giggle, not quite believing she was giggling and the fact she had almost tagged on 'anymore' to her admission.

"Yeah, it is getting a little stuffy in there. I think it's much better out here."

Emma looked down, avoiding the look in his eyes, a look that spoke volumes to her and her insides which seemed to be jumping at the very sound of his voice. Unfortunately, her gaze landed again on his chest, which was now devoid of his tie, the top three buttons of his shirt undone revealing dark hair. Emma gulped before sweeping her eyes away.

"So, how long have you been painting?" she asked, clutching at any conversation to stop the thoughts now invading her mind.

"Come now, Love. You really want to talk about that?" he asked, taking a step closer and Emma could feel the heat radiating from him, and her body responded on its own accord, aching for Emma to do something, anything.

She looked up to meet his eyes, something she would later regret, and was instantly pulled into their seemingly endless, enchanting clear pools. She was unable to look away and watched as they darkened to a stormy blue, the desire there obvious and she instinctively took a step back, only to find herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. The rock being the wall behind her and the hard place being Killian in front of her.

He closed the space between them even more, so their bodies were inches from touching and he leaned his head down to hers.

Emma couldn't take it anymore and she closed distance between them. Her eyes fluttered and closed as she pressed her lips against his, almost moaning at the softness. She had been right. So pliable.

Killian leaned into her, trapping her possessively exactly where he wanted her, his hand raising to cup her face delicately. Man, he really knew how to kiss and Emma felt it all the way down to her toes as he kissed her luxuriously, licking at her bottom lip until she opened up for him and he delved in, moaning in appreciation, then retreating just as quickly before repeating his actions

Emma moved her arms up and around his neck, her fingers delving into his soft hair at the base of his skull. She felt Killian's hand on the material of her dress where it covered her thighs, squeezing the covered flesh and causing the fabric to inch up slightly. She was incredibly aroused and this was a new thing for her, to be this aroused this quickly by a simple touch and an incredible kiss.

Killian lips moved from hers, and he trailed hot kisses down her neck, only one word escaping from his lips, her name said with such reverence it made her quiver.

 _This wasn't happening,_ she though idly. _This can't be happening._ But his lips trailed back up her neck to recapture her lips again and this time she did moan, deeply, as she eagerly returned his kiss.

Killian hands moved from her thighs and around to her ass, pulling her closer to him, so she could feel exactly just how he was enjoying this. And at the feel of his hard erection pressing urgently against her, she froze, pulling back from him.

She licked her lips and almost smirked when she heard him groan, but the words she needed to say slipped out. "I'm married."

Killian pulled back a little more from her, though his hand were still clasping her ass and she could still feel his hardness.

"What?" he asked disbelieving

She swallowed nervously as she lifted her right hand from his hair and wriggled her fingers to him, showing the shining diamond encrusted wedding band accompanied with a delicate solitaire engagement ring. "I'm married."

Killian removed his hands and took half a step back. "Happily?"

Emma opened her mouth to speak, ready to defend her marriage, but the words escaped her so she didn't even attempt to lie.

"Didn't think so," Killian gloated before quickly stepping back to her, pulling her body back to his and her lips to his, this time his kiss was a little more frantic, more passionate.

Emma fell into his kiss again, the feelings he was stirring within her almost too much for her and that ache within her now growing to a pulsating thump.

The door opened again and Regina called, "Killian, are you out here?"

Killian silently detached himself from Emma again and whispered, "Wait here," before stepping away from her, out from the shadows and into the light shining from the gallery.

"Yeah, I'm here," he grumbled. "You know I hate this shit."

Emma turned from him, finally seeing her escape in the form of a narrow door to the side of the wall. She quickly moved through it, before leaning against the wall on the other sides as she tried desperately to even out her breathing.

This wasn't right on so many levels even she couldn't comprehend it.

She rushed through the gallery, ignoring anyone who attempted to stop her, before she found herself in front of her intern.

"Sadie, do you think you and Alan with be able to finish up here? I've really got to go."

"Sure, Ms. Swan," the under-grad student smiled nervously.

"Great," Emma smiled, already heading for the cloakroom, her purse and wrap, and her escape from Killian Jones. "Just make sure you get the addresses and that they are on my desk in the morning."

"Sure," the redheaded smile.

And with that, Emma fled.


	2. Chapter 2

Happy Friday everyone.

Thanks to all who have added this story to their favorites, or who are following. It makes my heart swell to know there are people out there reading what I write.

in reply to **noone** who reviewed chapter one: I'm super happy you enjoyed the first chapter. And you can be pretty sure there will be smut in here eventually. I can't seem to write a fic without it, maybe I should set that as a challenge for myself.

I'm also working on another AU OUAT fic and a potentially huge MC one. I get so excited when I finish a chapter and I desperately want to post everything I write, but you'll be glad to know I restrain myself, because, seriously, some of this is not ready for human eyes.

Just a side note but my work is unbeta'd so be be kind. Let me know what you think so far... please :)

* * *

Chapter Two

Emma couldn't remember driving home after the charity auction and she jumped a little when the cool air hit her as the car door was opened.

"Thank you, Darius," she smiled to the doorman of her apartment building, handing him her car keys so her Porsche could be moved to the garage by one of the 24-hour workers the homeowners' association employed.

Darius smiled as he closed the car door and hurried to open the heavy ornate wooden door to the building. "Your husband's a very lucky man," he said to her as she entered.

"Maybe you should remind him," she grinned glibly over her shoulder as she crossed the marble floor to a long bank of elevators.

The doors opened as soon as she stood in front of the car and Emma wondered, not for the first time, how the person inside the elevator knew the instant a passenger was waiting.

"Good evening, Mrs..."

"Good evening, Jack," Emma replied sharply, cutting him off impatiently. She was not usually this abrupt with the cheerful people who eased the transition from home to car, but the evening events had rattled her somewhat and the last thing she wanted to hear was her married name.

Jack immediately detected her mood and just smiled. He knew it had to be bad for this woman to be curt. She was one of the most gracious and friendly in the whole building. Not stuck up like most of the other inhabitants.

They rode in silence up to Emma's home, the gilded doors opening to her foyer with a soft ping of a bell.

"Thank you, Jack," she said distractedly as she exited the car. She wasn't surprised when the elegant mahogany door opened before her and Emma handed off her wrap and purse to Rosario, her housekeeper.

"Was the event a success?" Rosario asked pleasantly, the Hispanic lit to her voice soothing as always to Emma.

"I think so," Emma smiled. "Regina was certainly pleased."

"Miss Mills does like to make money," Rosario returned almost conspiratorially.

"That she does," Emma agreed.

"Shall I prepare a bath?"

"Yes, thank you, Rosario. That's just what I need."

Rosario nodded her head slightly to Emma, something she did to acknowledge a request, almost as if in place of a curtsy, then moved smoothly off to attend to her task.

Emma moved through the vast apartment. The space took a complete floor of an old apartment building on New York's 5th Avenue and, in Emma's opinion, it was far too large for two people. But the property had been purchased as a wedding gift by her husband's grandfather and so this was where they lived. They employed a live-in housekeeper and a chef and Emma was at times, grateful for their presence in the sometimes tome-like home. Her years of longing for space bigger than a shoebox seemed a lifetime ago and sometimes she found herself yearning for those simpler times, not matter how hard her life had been.

She walked closer to the tall windows which faced Central Park and gazed out onto the expanse of the green space below her, bright in the lamp lights that illuminated the area. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against to cool glass, her hands pressed either side of her head and her mind again playing out the evening.

How could she have been so stupid, so youthful in her thoughts to have allowed that man to kiss her, and even worse, to have been the one to initiate their kiss and to match his passion with her own, something she hadn't allow herself to feel for a long time.

 _But, man, was that a kiss or what,_ she thought to herself with a smirk. She couldn't ever recall another man kissing her like that, including her husband. She opened her eyes and the gleam bouncing off her wedding band made her mood sink.

She moved back from the bank of windows and over to a bureau that housed the good whiskey. She hadn't lied when she told Killian she wasn't a big drinker, but there had been a time in her life when she had been, not to the extent of being an alcoholic, but in her younger days, she could certainly handle the hard liquor. She now had a sudden need for some of the amber liquid, and she poured herself a good measure into a crystal stout tumbler.

She swallowed her drink in one gulp, savoring the taste as the liquid burned her throat, and considered another.

"Surely it can't have been that bad," a deep voice filled the room and Emma exhaled slowly before reaching for another glass and placed it next to her own.

"It was typical," she returned as she poured more whiskey into her glass and a good measure into its twin.

"Do you think the gallery raised more than last year?" he asked as he moved to stand next her. She turned and handed over his glass.

"I don't see how it can't have. Regina is an expert at this sort of thing," she smiled, pushing all thoughts of the other man from her mind.

"Well, you know my cousin," her husband smirked.

"Regina will never change, Walsh," she returned as he closed the space between them and kissed her cheek.

Walsh Austins could easily be considered handsome man. His brown hair always had a shine to it and was perfectly placed and his golden eyes shimmered. He was broad and toned, his clothes impeccable and his arrogance almost the size of the Chrysler Building.

Emma watched as he swallowed some of whiskey she had poured of him.

"Shall I expect a large charge on the card?" he smirked to her.

"I was working, Walsh. I wasn't there to shop," she returned. After three years of marriage he still didn't take her work seriously.

"Whatever you say, dear," he patronized, his eyes twinkling.

Rosario stepped into the living area, her smile slipping slightly when she saw her employer had returned.

"Your bath is ready, Mrs. Austins," she said tight-lipped.

"Thank you, Rosario," Emma smiled. She turned and pressed her back against the dark wood of the bureau, her ankles crossing gracefully, as she watched Walsh moved through the space to settle himself into a large leather chair.

"How was your meeting with Jacobson?" she asked, hoping to keep him from asking more questions about her evening.

"Jacobson is moron," he griped. "He refuses to acknowledge if he doesn't submit to a merger, Austins Industries is just going to swallow his company anyway," Walsh smirked to his wife. "My father always gets what he wants."

Emma schooled her emotions, keeping her features free from any physical response to his words. She knew how true Walsh's words were. After all, she was living proof of that. She was well aware of Walsh's gaze on her, and his sardonic grin as he swirled the liquid in his glass. His eyes never left her as he swallowed the last of his drink and Emma fought hard to keep her body from shuddering in disgust.

He stood quickly and returned to her side, setting his tumbler back on the smooth surface of the bureau.

"I have some work I need to complete so don't disturb me," Walsh ordered as he turned to leave the living space, obviously heading for his vast home office.

 _Yeah, because that's something I want to do_ , Emma thought as she watched him stride out the room. She vaguely wondered if Walsh could smell Killian's cologne on her, because that's all that had filled her nostrils since she had left the gallery. His scent clinging to her dress.

"Oh, Emma," Walsh paused before the headed down the hallway, turning back to face her. "Don't go to sleep. I will be fucking you later."

"As romantic as ever," she mumbled to herself and gulped down the last of her whiskey.

…

The sharp rap on the door startled Emma and she lifted her head from her work, calling the person to enter.

The heavy oak door opened swiftly and a man entered carried a heavy looking package. He wore one of the long, brown, lab coat style work coats the employees wore in storage and Emma was surprise to see him bring the large object into her office at Gold Antiquities.

"What's this, Drew?" she asked.

"It was delivered this morning, Ms. Swan. With strict instructions for yourself to open it."

"Thank you," she smiled as she rounded her desk, trying to remember if she was expecting a delivery of some art work that needed appraising.

Drew placed the package on the large easel Emma kept in her office for such things. "Shall I wait?" he asked, stepping back.

"No, its fine," Emma returned cordially and Drew nodded before he slipped from the room.

She felt a little giddy at the thought of what could be underneath the brown wrapping as she cautiously slipped her paper knife under the fasting and pulled the covering free.

She gasped as she recognized the painting as soon as it was revealed. It was the painting from the auction a few nights ago. The one by Killian, the one he had tried to gift to her instead of sell.

Her eyebrows furrowed a little. She was sure this had been auctioned off, in fact, she remembered specifically noting it had been bought and not pulled from the sale. Her fingers danced over the dark wood frame before she noticed a folded piece of paper tucked slightly into the frame in the bottom right corner.

She pulled it free gently and opened it to find a hand written note, the writing distinctly male and rough.

 _Don't worry. It's bought and paid for. I bought it myself, for you. I know that's kind of crazy, right? An artist buying his own work, but you are the only one who understands it almost as much as I do. Until we meet again, Killian._

Emma couldn't help the smile from spreading across her lips as she brought the paper to her lips, inhaling deeply, imagining Killian's cologne emanated from its smooth surface.

"So," a gruff British voice called, and Emma spun quickly around to see the man himself leaning casually against her open door, one leg crossing the other and his arms folding across the wide expanse of his chest. "You wanna get some lunch with me, Swan?"

He smirked at her surprised look as she just stared at him for a moment.

"Don't tell me," he said as he finally entered her office. "You were just being polite and you hate it really."

"No...No. I love it," Emma stammered turning her head back to the painting. "But really, I can't..."

"You can't accept it?" he said for her, and Emma was again surprised at how close he suddenly was, standing behind her and whispering the words into her ear.

"Really," she returned, turning her head slightly to catch his eyes over her shoulder. "I can't."

"You can and you will, because it's a gift, love. And you will upset me if you refuse. And then I will not be able to paint and Regina will lose money at the gallery and it will be all your fault."

Emma narrowed her eyes a little at his reasoning. "Your logic is a little weird, Mr. Jones."

"Killian," he ordered softly.

She nodded as her gaze involuntarily flickered down to his lips, remembering how soft they were, how they'd moved against hers and longing too much to feel them again. She lifted her eyes to his to see his own on her lips and she smirked.

She stepped closer to the painting, lifting it from the easel and moving across the room to a long wall. "I think it would look best here," she commented tilting her head slightly in imagination.

Killian crossed and took the painting from her, moving to the other side of the room adjacent to her desk. "I think it will look better here, that way every time you look up you will see it and be reminded of me."

Emma ducked her head, hoping she wasn't blushing because she hardly needed a painting to remind her of this handsome man who invaded her mind at every chance he could.

Killian braced the frame on the top of the sideboard there and stood back and Emma was drawn to his side, noting it did look good there.

"Perfect," she whispered.

Killian turned to her. "So, lunch, Swan?

Emma hesitated a second, her thumb rubbing along her wedding band. "Well, it's the least I could do really."

"Damn straight," Killian grinned. "I'm shit broke now!"

…

A half hour later, Emma and Killian were seated in an old time diner far from Emma's work place and off the beaten track and she watched as Killian took a large bite of a thick, juicy burger.

Killian grinned to her, chewing on the meat, as she shook her head and looked back down to her Mediterranean salad, her fork spearing a slice of cucumber and a chuck of feta cheese.

"That stuff will kill you, ya know," she commented before lifting her fork to her mouth.

"Probably," Killian returned after he swallowed. "But at least I'll die happy and with a full stomach. You can't tell me that's filling."

"Of course it is," Emma retorted.

"Yeah, well, I don't believe you," Killian shot back. "Rabbit food!"

"It's healthy and delicious," Emma bantered back. "And you don't know what you're missing."

She speared more of her food and lifted her fork to Killian. "Try," she coaxed.

Killian looked at her as though she was insane. He didn't eat salads on principle. He just didn't trust green food. His eyes caught the mischievous glint in her green orbs and before he knew what he was doing, he opened his mouth to accept her eating utensil.

She grinned as he munched thoughtfully and swallowed quickly. "Yep, tastes like shit," he grumbled.

Emma lifted an eyebrow. "You know that from experience?"

"Metaphorically," he shot back and then flashed her a half smile, and Emma's breath caught a little at the sexy grin he offered her.

He offered her his burger and Emma looked at it skeptically.

"Have you ever had a burger before, Princess," he teased at her look of disgust.

"Of course I have," she shot back. "I worked at a diner since I was 16, the free food an added bonus."

He waved his burger at her again, and Emma huffed as she set her fork against her plate and took the offered food from him. She grinned at him as she took a huge bite of the bun and meat before handed it back.

She chewed slowly and closed her eyes with bliss as the burger juices hit her throat. She'd lived on burgers while working at the diner, but she had to admit, it had been a while since she had eaten one, burgers not being the food her in-laws thought acceptable.

She moaned in spite of herself and her eyes snapped open at Killian's soft chuckle.

"Been a while, huh?"

She smiled at him as she nodded, lifting her napkin to dab her mouth delicately. "That's a good burger."

"I said you were crazy to order that salad," he informed her before taking another bite.

Emma looked down at her healthy meal choice, before pushing her plate aside and reaching over to bring his closer to her, stealing a few of his fries and popping them into her mouth before he could protest.

"Feels good to walk on the wild-side?" Killian smirked at him.

Emma shot him a look, her mind screaming _if you only knew_ before she schooled her features, her need to keep her walls in place, to keep her public persona in check, trampling down any real emotions. "I will so be regretting this later when I'm trying to work it off at the gym," she mumbled around a mouthful of his fries.

"I know better ways to work out then paying for some fancy gym," Killian grinned to her, his blue eyes twinkling and an eyebrow lifting as if in challenge.

Emma swallowed her fries nervously. Of course he would bring their conversation around to sex. Most of their interactions so far have had something to do with sex in some shape or form. After the kiss they had shared at the auction, Emma had found herself aroused and unfulfilled. Later that night, with Walsh pushing into her with absolute no regard to her or her needs, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering to Killian and Killian's lips. The feel of his body pressed closely to hers, his hand on her thigh and the heat she could feel through the thin material of her dress. It helped take the pain away from what Walsh was doing to her body. Of course, he left her hanging as he did on every occasion they were intimate since the night of their wedding, but this night was different, this time she couldn't ignore the need within her.

"Someone's got a dirty mind," Killian taunted.

Emma just looked at him as she took a sip of her water, hoping to God she wasn't blushing as much as she thought she was.

"So, you gonna take advantage of my most generous offer of my time and my body." Killian was teasing her, she knew it.

"I…" she took another drink. "I'm still married."

"And?" Killian questioned.

Could she do this? Could she have a relationship with this man that included sex? Could she break her vow to her husband and to God? Emma looked hard at the man before her. He was the complete opposite of Walsh. Rugged in a way she found very handsome, a way that appealed to her deep within her soul. He still wore a scruff of facial hair and, while she usually preferred a clean shaven face, on him it looked right, looked great in fact. His hair was a little wild but maintained and she vividly remember the way it felt when she had threaded her fingertip through it.

His clothes were more casual than what he wore when they first met. Dark jeans, a black button-down shirt with the top three buttons unfastened, giving her a good glimpse of his dark chest hair, and a leather jacket which was hung on the back of his chair. _Casually rugged_ , Emma thought to herself with a small smile.

Emma thought it was time for a change of topic. "So, how long have you had this painting gig?"

Killian laughed softly and Emma berated herself for being so obvious in wanting to change the conversation.

They spent the next hour just talking. They discuss his painting, her work at the auction house, the economy, the plight of the black rhino, and the fact Killian was deeply disturbed by Jell-O.

The time flew by and before Emma knew it she was again outside the Gold Antiquities building.

"So, you gonna meet me in the park this evening?" he asked.

"I can't," Emma answered automatically as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Can't, or won't," Killian challenged. After a beat, he continued. "Come dressed for a work out," he added cryptically with a wink.

Emma struggled to come up with a solid reason why she couldn't. Couldn't meet him later, couldn't fall under his spell, and most definitely could not have a physical relationship with him.

"6 O'clock by the Balto statue," he instructed.

"The Balto statue?"

"Yeah, the big dog," he clarified with a grin.

"I know what it is," she returned his smile with a roll of her eyes.

"Okay, then, love," Killian finished with a nod of his head.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Emma sighed.

"Of course it is. It's just a work out, it's not against the law," Killian reasoned, his sly smirk tugging at something within her, as he walked away from her backwards his arms spread wide.

"If I don't make it…" Emma started.

"Oh, you'll make it, Swan," Killian called out. Before she could say anything else, he turned blended into the New York populace.

…

Emma paced before the large windows in her bedroom, her gaze drifting out the clear glass and toward Central Park every few seconds. It was 5.15 and she was dressed in a pair of comfortable black capri yoga pants, purple sports bra, and a fitted red tank. She looked back to her running shoes where they sat by the large bed. She was still unsure what to do.

She exhaled deeply as she stalked across the room and snatched her cell from her bedside table. She quickly scrolled through her contacts before she found the name she was looking for and hit dial. She resumed pacing while waiting for her call to be answered.

"Emma!" a cheerful voice call. "It's been forever, how are you?"

"I'm good, Mary-Margaret," Emma rushed. "I need some advice."

"Oh," Mary-Margaret said and Emma could hear the deflation in her voice. She could almost see her friend shake her head slight before continuing, her voice perky again. "What can I do to help?"

"Well, there's this guy," Emma started, before she explained everything to Mary-Margaret.

"So what do you need from me?" Mary-Margaret asked.

"Tell me what to do," Emma answered, a slight whine to her voice. "Should I meet with his guy or not?"

"Emma, I can't tell you what to do," Mary-Margaret said softly.

"What would you do?"

"I'm happily married," Mary-Margaret reasoned. "I would never be in your situation. I told you from the get-go not to marry Walsh."

"I know," Emma sighed. "I just…"

"You just what?"

"I just want…something, I want to feel something."

"Emma," Mary-Margaret started cautiously, "why did you marry Walsh?"

Emma stalled. They'd had this conversation so many times over the past three years, and still Emma could not tell her best friend the real reason she had anchored herself to Walsh. Why she was trapped in a marriage she didn't want and why she could never leave him.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," she finally mumbled, her hand absentmindedly brushing at no existence fluff on her pants.

"You don't love him, Emma," Mary-Margaret stated matter-of-factly. "The fact you are thinking about meeting with a man you are obviously attracted to tells me that. You should just leave Walsh."

"I can't," Emma whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes.

"Why can't you? Emma, what does he have over you?"

Emma could hear the concern in her friend's voice, the same tone she heard whenever they had this conversation because they'd talked about this on more than one occasion.

"Mary-Margaret," Emma sighed, "I didn't call for one of your lectures, not everyone finds their true love the first try."

"I just want you to be happy," Mary-Margaret said.

"Then tell me what to do," Emma whined.

Mary-Margaret sighed. "Follow your heart, Emma. That's all I can say."

Emma smiled into her cell. "Thanks, Mary-Margaret."

"Hey, let's have lunch Thursday. I miss you," Mary-Margaret stated.

"I'd like that. 1pm at the Russian Tea Rooms," Emma offered.

"Make it Tony's Diner and you have a date."

"Okay, fine," Emma ginned again.

"See ya then," Mary-Margaret concluded.

"Yep."

"Have fun, Emma," then her friend was gone.

Emma exhaled as she tucked her cell in to the snug pocket of her pants. She looked out the window again for a couple of heart beats, then she moved quickly through the room, picking up her running shoes as she headed out, her mind finally made up.

…


End file.
